


Another Day On The Train

by ohsusquehannah



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 20:45:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohsusquehannah/pseuds/ohsusquehannah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tachibana Makoto has loved Nanase Haruka since he can first recall, but he's always kept his feelings hidden for the sake of their friendship. They're riding the train home from Iwatobi as usual, when a startling touch brings with it memories and feelings that Makoto doesn't know if he'll be able to contain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Day On The Train

Makoto’s breath caught violently; unnoticed but for the tiniest strangled sigh to passerby, and thunderous in his own ears. The train rattled and buzzed with the thoughts both vocal and muted of the dozen or so passengers on board, and the pole directly in Makoto’s line of vision vibrated at some nearly unseen frequency as the transit made its way steadily back to the station near his house. His bright green gaze was uncharacteristically hesitant as he did his best to sneak unnoticed glances at the pale, delicate fingers brushing his own. _When did this happen?_ He managed to form coherent thought as his brain rushed to keep up with his racing pulse. _When was it that everything changed?_

From their first fond memories of childhood to the quiet isolation of elementary school, then through their chaotic middle and high school years, Nanase Haruka and Tachibana Makoto had been inseparable. They spent years together swimming and fishing, doodling and racing; daring each other to take their time as they reluctantly grew hand-in-hand into early adolescence. They had been together for so long that they’d developed a language nearly all their own; Haruka’s clear blue eyes and Makoto’s own green had become so familiar to each other that shared words were rarely necessary. Most verbal communication between them was for the sake of those who existed outside of their crystalline bubble, and Makoto had always been grateful for and proud of his ability to understand Haru --though perhaps not perfectly-- better than anyone else in his life.

After they first met in 2nd grade, it had taken less than a year, even at such a naïve age, for Makoto to fall deeply in love with Haruka. He loved the way that he cared deeply for those few he let into his life, the passion hidden behind the sharp blue smokescreen of his eyes, even the self-conscious smile the smaller boy couldn’t hide when he first saw Makoto after they'd spent a time apart. Makoto’s feelings for Haru had become a constant in his life in much the same way that his heart existed beneath his ribs; they were always there, undetected but for the constant beating under his skin, as necessary as the blood pumping outward into his veins. He had been so eager to share his love with the world at that time --so proud to hold Haru’s hand on the playground, playfully kiss his flushed cheek in the lunchroom, and grip the hem of his shirt tightly in a display of affection and trust whenever he felt scared or frustrated-- however, that innocent happiness couldn’t last forever. Entirely too soon, his teachers began giving Makoto reprimanding looks when he reached for Haru, pointedly separating the two in activities, and giving him the increasingly familiar stern talking-to about what was “natural” or “appropriate” for a boy his age. Though he didn’t quite understand, he knew that something about how he felt must be wrong, by the way adults glared disapprovingly at their joined hands or shook their heads ar the tender smile Makoto reserved only for Haru. So, from fourth grade on, Makoto had taken his feelings and tucked them under his skin, hiding them in the same secret place he kept his bones and organs. He could feel them shifting uncomfortably inside him from time to time, but he was content with his secrecy. He’d forced himself into a comfort zone that was a few sizes too small, but certainly bearable; for Haru’s sake at least. It was enough to be able to make him smile from time to time, to swim with him and to remain by his side. It would be fruitless to pine after his friend anyway, Makoto had convinced himself. He was the only one who harbored unnatural feelings. Haru was most _definitely_ straight.

But then Rin came along.

Rin was a tornado with legs; a thunderstorm with an eager sharp-toothed smile, electric and fierce. They first met him when he transferred into their class, grinning throughout his boisterous introduction, planting his feet and daring the kids to laugh at his feminine name. Makoto had smiled at the new boy’s confident enthusiasm, then turned to Haru to giggle at his wild hair and swinging limbs. Haru, however, wasn’t looking at Makoto. His eyes were wide and brighter than Makoto had ever seen them, and a slight blush played on his cheeks as he watched Rin parade to the back of the class to fling himself down at their table. Just as quickly as the emotion had betrayed his usual stoic mask, Haru blinked and ducked his head at the redhead’s greeting, returning to his usual sullen coolness. But Makoto was sure of what he’d seen. His body flooded with envy and panic, but his smile remained as bright and steadfast as ever as he welcomed his new classmate. It wasn’t Rin’s fault that Haru had reacted in that strangely passionate way, or that Makoto was painfully jealous, and he knew it would be silly for him to make a scene. Gathering his thoughts and steeling himself, Makoto studied his new peer carefully. He was as loud as he was passionate, he always had something to say or an adventure to propose, and throughout the next few weeks Makoto began to see the same spark reflected in Haru’s eyes.

When to the enthusiastic approval of his friends Rin joined the swim team, Makoto lost all hope. He could only marvel at the way the two boys complimented each other physically, both in the water and out. Rin brought out a drive and sense of competition in Haru that he’d never seen, and whenever the firey boy was around, Makoto and Haru’s connection faded painfully. Haru stopped looking to him in favor of staring wide-eyed at Rin, and all Makoto could do was watch helplessly as the distance between them increased. He longed to tell Haru how he felt, to prevent his heart from breaking any further, but he couldn’t bring himself to spoil his friend’s happiness. Rin was who he wanted, that was obvious, and Makoto would be selfish to try and come between them. Foolish to think he could, anyhow. Now that his gender couldn’t act as an excuse for his inadequacy, he was sure that there was something wrong with him that prevented Haru from returning his affection. He could no longer blame his unhappiness on what lay between his legs. He had always been convinced that it wasn’t possible for him to be with Haru, and now he saw that he simply wasn’t _enough_. Makoto was flawed. He couldn’t give Haru something that Rin apparently could, and he had to accept that. Still, it hurt so badly that he felt he might die, when one day his fears were finally confirmed.

Long after school had ended and practice had just gotten out, Haru waved Makoto out of the pool on his own. He wanted to continue to swim, he said. This wasn’t particularly out of the ordinary for Haru, and he stubbornly urged Makoto to return home while he remained. Makoto wanted to wait, but he had promised his mother that he would help with dinner; after dragging his feet for as long as he could, he bid his friend goodbye and reluctantly left. Halfway to the station however, he realized that in his flustered conflict about leaving Haru he had left his goggles and trunks in the locker room. Half-heartedly berating himself for his carelessness, he turned and rushed back to get them. In truth, he was secretly eager for an excuse to check once more on the water-crazed boy before he left. He'd always been fiercely independent, but Makoto couldn't help but worry that he cared more for water than his own well-being. He frowned to himself at the thought, quickening his pace as the school came into view. When he reached the pool, however, his friend wasn’t in the water; he noticed with a pained swallow that neither was Rin, who had been floating nearby when he left. Stomach flooded with nervous anticipation of what he might find, Makoto shoved aside his dread and urged himself to move forward and retrieve his belongings. This irrational fear was silly, he told himself. His friends were just getting dressed and ready to go home, nothing more. Still, he made sure to remain unheard as he tentatively padded across the damp concrete to the locker room, and as slowly and quietly as he could, opened the door enough so that he could peer through. At what he saw, his heart jumped to his throat. There, pressed against the lockers, were Rin and Haru. Their lips were locked clumsily, and Haru’s hands had found their way to Rin’s chest as the taller boy pressed his palms into the cool metal behind Haru’s head. Their faces were flushed and their swimsuits brushed together as they bumped noses, fumbling for some sense of effortless grace. Haru’s body, usually relaxed with careless boredom, was tensed noticeably and his calve muscles flexed as he lifted himself on his toes. It felt as if Makoto had been punched in the stomach. After a few dumbstruck moments, he finally managed to gather his thoughts enough to leave. Feeling nauseous, he closed the door quietly and hurried away, swiping the tears from his eyes.

It was not long after that Rin left for Australia, and the group of friends struggled to go back to the way things had been before. It was hard to maintain any semblance of normalcy, however, when Haru spent his days looking so crestfallen, and Makoto went through life with what felt like an anvil where his heart should be. Nagisa, happy-go-lucky as he was, did his best to cheer the group up. He scheduled sleepovers and swim-dates, waddling like a penguin as his friends ate Saba and laughed together. He acted as the needle and thread to their friendship, mending Haru and Makoto’s relationship through his mediation and keeping them in stitches with his goofy jokes and antics. After a time, Nagisa’s efforts began to yield results, and things started to return to the way they were. Haru began once more to look at Makoto with present eyes, and the past started to feel more like the past. They sat with knees touching on the train once more, exchanged silent affectionate words, and Haru smiled more often at Makoto’s long-winded anecdotes. Even when Rin returned from his trip bitter and angry, Haru recovered more quickly after he left than he had before. Although he was insistent that it didn’t matter and refused to speak about it, something in Haru had changed irrevocably after his second encounter with Rin. Despite his repetitive insistence that he had moved on, he no longer swam competitively. Nothing Nagisa or Makoto said could change his mind. This new sadness in Haru made Makoto ache, but there was little he could do. Haru seemed resigned to the fact that Rin was no longer in his life, and accepted that more willingly than Makoto could have possibly hoped for. This time around, however, the tall brunette found that he wasn’t entirely helpless in the process. After everything that had happened, he was afraid that Haru would once more distance himself from his companion— but instead he turned to Makoto for support and comfort. If anything, they trusted each other more post-Rin than they had pre-Rin. Through their relationship, Makoto’s worst fear had been realized, but in the end Haru returned to _his_ side. For that, he was forever grateful. 

They entered high school, even closer than they’d been before, when Rin reappeared for a third time; only now it was apparently for good. When Makoto heard the news, he couldn’t help the way his heart stuttered in his chest or the way his eyes immediately shot to Haruka to anxiously gauge his reaction. He knew he should trust that Haru wouldn’t abandon him again, but Makoto’s stomach twisted into tortured knots at the possibility regardless. The reaction he saw on Haru’s face was what he should have expected of his smaller friend; his eyes were lit up with shock and his jaw went momentarily slack, but there didn’t seem to be any lust or longing hidden in his gaze. Makoto watched the gears turn in Haru’s brain as he grasped the reality of Rin’s return, doing his best to swallow the pain and jealousy that the memories brought with them. Studying the boy’s face closely, he watched as Haru collected himself. His blue eyes had seemed to take on a strange sheen, and his face adjusted slowly into an expression of deep thought. He looked as if he was coming to some sort of decision, and Makoto felt as if he might be sick if Haru didn’t look at him or say something to convince him he wouldn’t leave him as he had before. The moments ticked by, and then, as if sensing his friend's unease, Haru nodded resolutely to himself and turned to stare determinedly and directly into Makoto’s eyes. The blue gaze bore into his own, frank and open. Makoto gasped at what Haru was telling him; it was spelled out clearly on his face so that only he could understand. His eyes were locked on Makoto’s with such an intensity that he felt his face flush and his breath come more quickly, much to his embarrassment.

“Makoto…”

Haru’s bright eyes searched the others meaningfully for a long moment, and the message was clear. Haru understood how Makoto had felt about he and Rin; he was letting him know that he _knew_ how hurt he had been. He was telling him that he regretted it, that it was a mistake. This was the first time Haru had acknowledged the rift that had formed momentarily in their relationship, and those three meaningful syllables were his apology. This was his reassurance. This was him telling him without a doubt in his mind…

 _He chose Makoto_.

Makoto’s head spun and he broke into a wide grin. “ _Haru…”_ he breathed softly so that only his friend could hear. Haru’s face flushed slightly as he turned and walked abruptly away, and Makoto was forced to jog to keep up with him. This was a big moment for the two of them, and it was understandable that Haru wanted to escape the air so oppressively laden with emotion. However, when Makoto reached out to grab his shirt, he slowed down enough to let his friend catch up and walk beside him. His clear eyes flicked upwards to search Makoto’s face, and the lightly panting boy happily rested in Haru’s gaze, looking at the road ahead of them and feeling the blue eyes linger unacknowledged on his profile. Their hands accidentally brushed as they walked, and Makoto could have sworn for a brief moment that he saw the tiniest smile accompanying the light pink dust spread across Haru’s petite nose, though he hardly dared to believe it. There was no way of knowing for certain, because at that very moment, Haru turned away.

Even though Rin was back and Haru was, of course, eager to reconcile and have the opportunity to swim with him again, it was different between the two old rivals. Whatever electricity had sparked between the two of them seemed to have faded with time, and Haru seemed to feel nothing more than an earnest desire to make things right. Haru still walked home with Makoto, still spent nights at his house, still stuck by his side almost constantly. They shared more intimate moments now; times when he was certain that there was nothing else in the world but those cautious blue eyes, and no one he could possibly love so fiercely as he loved Haru. Makoto’s heart still raced when he thought of that night at the training camp when Haru had rescued him. Perhaps it was the isolation, or the full moon, or the sensation of knowing that he _could have died,_ but he was seized with a kind of bravery he’d never before experienced. “ _If Haru is not there… It’s meaningless without you!”_ The words echoed in his head and he blushed at the memory, still shocked at how brazen he’d been. Still, the look in Haru’s eyes… He shouldn’t be doing this to himself, shouldn’t let himself be filled with such a sense of rash hope. It was reckless and dangerous, but he couldn’t help it. Lately when he’d been around Haru, his entire body had felt as if it was humming, much like the train they rode on so frequently. Like the pole that vibrated silently in front of his eyes. As if his pulse was beating rhythmically over the rails beneath them as they sped along… Of course, he’d always been aware of how he felt for Haruka, but this wasn’t the same isolated sensation he’d become familiar with over the years. It was less individual, and more atmospheric; as if the air between them was alive. Makoto wondered if Haru felt some kind of change as well, and whether it was as dramatically different for him.

These were the memories and thoughts that his frantic mind sifted through at breakneck speed as the plastic pressed beneath his back and Haru’s thigh pressed against his own. The two boys stared stubbornly ahead, though Makoto felt dizzy and disoriented from the flood of emotions he’d just experienced all over again; he sighed deeply, exhaling a spectrum of emotions from a lifetime spent with Haru. His heart felt full to bursting with all they’d been through, and he struggled to focus as he once more felt those slim fingers brush significantly against his own. Gathering courage, he extended his left pinky to search for more contact, and Haru did the same. They moved slowly, almost as if they were afraid that the moment might shatter, time frozen on that deafeningly silent train. Was it really silent? _No_ , Makoto thought. There was simply no room left for anything else in his mind but the feeling of Haru’s fingers on his own. They’d covered his ears and caressed his heart, leaving him to either take hold or fall. And take hold he did, his hand finally settling comfortably into Haru’s own as the world stopped, and then slowly came back into focus. The locomotive sped uninterrupted along its course, completely unaware of the earthquake that had just shaken two of its passengers' lives. They remained in that position even when they reached their stop, unwilling to move, until the last few remaining people had trickled out onto the platform. Haru finally turned his blue eyes onto Makoto and reluctantly stood up to go, keeping the boy’s hand in his own and gently tugging. “Makoto,” he said softly, pupils dilated and eyes overflowing with the words that remained unspoken, “We’re home.”

Makoto couldn’t agree more. 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me at fujiokunt.tumblr.com!


End file.
